In 1982, William Rotsler was approached by Wanderer Books, an official, licensed publisher of Star Trek TOS related books. Could he write an authorized biography of the seven principle members of the Enterprise crew in three weeks? Rotsler, a well-known Hugo and Nebula Award finalist science fiction writer and long-time fan, as well as a Star Trek TOS fan, said "yes". Here is how he described the experience:

"I simply did not want to rehash old material. I wanted to
give the fans something new ... and I didn't want to bore myself doing it. So
I conceived the "dossier" format. This included full name, serial
number, birth place, dates, commendations, etc. This format, then, required the addition of first names, family, serial
numbers, and so on where they had not previously been noted. I used (1) my own
memory; (2) Bjo Trimble's Star Trek Concordance; (3) Bjo's memory; (4) other
obvious sources. So if it
wasn't in the series, the two movies, the Concordance, or
behind-the-scenes-"well-established"-fact, I ignored it. The whole idea was to use all reasonable sources, to make it fit in. I used some starship
names from another book."

Below is the biography Rotsler wrote for Uhura. Since he needed a first name for her dossier entry, he chose the most appropriate he could imagine. Nyota (Swahili for "Star"). But before making a final decision, he decided to get input from the show's creator and the actress who portrayed her, Roddenberry and Nichols. Both enthusiastically endorsed the name.

Rotsler was also the author of several science fiction novels of interest to TOS fans. You will learm more about them at the end of the entry.

The
Africa of young Nyota Uhura was not, in some ways, much different from the
Africa of her distant ancestors. An hour's aircar flight from the gleaming,
air-conditioned towers of Nairobi, you could see a herdsman tending his flock,
hear the drums, smell the dust and flowers.

The
Africa of Tarzan, of Stanley and Livingstone, of the two-dimensional motion
pictures was still there, although you had to search for it. In the great
animal preserves of Kenya time had not moved all that much. True, the last
remaining elephants were tagged with transponders, their wanderings tracked by
satellite. The wardens patrolled in silent aircraft, the visitors were closely
watched, the poachers few and ineffectual.

The real Africa of Uhura's
childhood was in the great pits of the mineral mines, the forest loggers, the
humming factories and power centers of Addis Ababa, Nairobi, Salisbury,
Johannesburg, Gambia, and Kinshasa. But still, there were the festivals, the
recreations, the cultural parks that preserved and relived the common ancestry.
To hear drums while watching a holographic story about space travel was not
uncommon.

The
young Nyota—whose name means "Star" in the common trade language,
Swahili—had feet in both worlds. Her roots were in the soil of an ancient land,
but her heart was in the stars.

In
My Voyage in the Enterprise, Lloyd Alden recalled a conversation with
Lieutenant Uhura after a relaxing evening in the recreation room with friends.
"She said, 'I used to love to go to Kenya, to the great park there. They
had restored it to the way it was in the nineteenth century, with rough, dusty
roads and villages. My first time there I went out at night—I must have been
seven or eight—and I was just stunned! I had never seen so many stars. I had
lived in Nairobi all my life, and like any great city, the lights block out the
stars. The Milky Way, the lens of the Home Galaxy seen on edge, was the most
spectacular sight I had ever seen! I knew then I had to go there.'"

In
his autobiography, Where No Man Has Gone Before, James Kirk spoke of
Uhura's early longing for the distant stars. "It was no secret that Uhura
was a romantic. But that is hardly an uncommon condition aboard any starship.
Romantics are basically restless, they want to see what is on the other side of
the hill, the other side of a sun, the other side of the galaxy. It was just,
perhaps, more obvious with Lieutenant Uhura."

In Space, the Final
Frontier, Uhura's own account of her years on the Enterprise,
she wrote: "I went into the stars expecting. Expecting . . . what? I
had no idea. Something. Something different. Something new. I certainly
achieved that goal. There were more `somethings' different' to be found than I
could have possibly imagined."

I can't believe it! I received the
notice from Starfleet Academy yesterday and I've been floating ever since! I've
been accepted!

I
know the work will be difficult. The drop-out rate is amazing, I've heard. The failure
rate is even higher. But when you have gotten through the Academy, you have
done something!

I
guess I can tell you this now, but when you dropped out of good ol' Cairo U. to
take an engineering post on that supply ship going to the moons of Jupiter, I envied
you! Oh, I was so jealous! You were out there, seeing things for the
first time, from space, and I was slugging it out at UC-Irvine and HAD
NEVER EVEN BEEN OFF THIS MUDBALL OF A PLANET!

Congratulations on
completing your first year at the Academy! Your father, brother, and sister
join me in wishing you well. We are sorry you cannot come home this
summer, but we understand your desire to attend further classes in music, which
you could not have time for during the regular semesters.

Your
brother says that he must reluctantly report the death of Bruce, your favorite
elephant, up in Kenya Park. Uaekundu says that she met a very nice young man
while jetboating on Lake Victoria and that his brother is in your class
at the Academy. Do you know a Fimbo Pua van Veer?

Father
says the coffee crop is excellent this year and that we should do well on
exports.

My
love to you.

Excerpts,
African Heritage, by Garrett Tubman Jacanarat:

.
. . And our daughters, too, went into space. Uazuri Ngumi rose to the rank of
Captain, commanding the Laura Reinecke in the Ceti-4 incident. Ingrid
Tandiko was the Medical Officer aboard the transport ship Bernard Zuber, which
brought the body of Richard Daystrom home to Earth. Mia Kinywa was the First
Officer on the Monitor during the Schirmeister crisis.

But
perhaps best known of all is Nyota Uhura, who served two distinguished tours of
duty aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise.

. . . On the second tour,
which began inauspiciously as a training exercise, the Enterprise was
commanded by Captain Willard Decker, who was superseded by Admiral James Kirk.
The story of their incredible journey into the heart of the fantastically
vast complex that was "V'ger" has been told again and again, but it
is to be noted that Lieutenant Commander Uhura served with distinction.

.
. . And on completion of the task and the reprogramming of the V'ger complex,
the Enterprise set off again on a limited tour of duty before Nyota
Uhura was transferred temporarily to the Hornet.

Letter,
Nyota Uhura to Maryanne Chungwa, circa October 2164:

I've
met someone. Yes, that kind of "someone." He's handsome and strong,
and so intelligent! When I say handsome I don't mean "pretty,"
like Henry Ngouabi. Handsome men are just as wrapped up in themselves as
beautiful women so often are. Both are often shallow, as they have never had to
stretch much—things were given to them, opportunities offered, events happened,
lives disrupted simply because these beautiful creatures moved among us.

No,
he's not pretty, but he certainly is handsome. A strong face, definite and
clear, like he meant every feature. Nothing wishy-washy about him. Oh, his
name, I forgot to give his name! Jomo Murambi. Isn't that a name? Shades of
early twentieth century!

He's
an officer in the Army of the United States of Africa, a captain no less. His
unit is a special one, the Special Forces. He's Baker company commander and was
wounded at Dar es Salaam in the riot there a year ago, the one started by the
Tanzanian separatists.

I don't know where to
start telling you about him. Remember when we used to talk about
our Perfect Man, how he could do this or that, be good at such-and-such and
just as expert at something else? "Too perfect to ever exist." Isn't
that what you said? Well, my childhood companion, you were wrong!

He
has a good basso voice, loves to sing, plays the drums, the Terran and the
Vegan guitars, has composed a few songs—but they were really marching songs for
his company. He plays chess, is rated Computer Minus Three, which isn't bad,
since Computer-Equal is as good as you get, really. He was a tree toppler in
his teens, a roustabout in the Nudian Desert oil strike, and shipped out to the
Martian Colony on a transport ship. But he got in trouble with a super there
and they shipped him back. He's a black belt in traditional karate and would
love to study null-gravity karate.

He
reads! I mean books, not just 1000-line screen adventures. He has an
original paperback edition of The Butterfly Kid and Cops and Robbers,
hardcovers of Cirque, Timescape, and two Heinleins. He loves early
science fiction, Louis L'Amour, Donald Westlake, Robert Parker, M'keel von
Schroeder, Tasmeel the Andorian, and Kipling. The books have all been preserved,
of course. Oh, and he likes old twentieth-century picture magazines!

He
collects photos of nineteenth-century Africa and India, has the most beautiful
greencat plant I've seen, and the most wonderful eyes.

I guess by now you are thinking,
"Oh, over the edge—!" Well, you may be right. We went dancing last
night at Hotel Casablanca, in that famous Sky of Stars room where they have the
most beautiful projections on the dome, just like being in space, traveling
through the stars. It seemed as though we were alone, although there were a lot
of eyes on us. We danced and danced, and there was nothing to jar anything.

He
was so handsome in his black uniform with the Special Forces tabs. I wore that
gold dress you called "super-slinky," and we were a pair, let
me tell you, Marryanne. Oops! A typo! Well, maybe that's Dr. Freud slipping
through! Heaven knows he's the first man I've met who I'd even consider giving
up space for. (Did I tell you I'm Communications Officer on the Azrael now?
We're retrofitting the new phaser cannons in construction orbit, so we all have
leave.)

There
is one fact facing me that I just cannot dodge, however. One of us must
give up his or her job. Either I stay planetside—or at best, take just
months-long trip around the Solar System—or he does. The difficulty is, he has
no desire to go into space, at least as a career.

It
would not be the first time a woman gave up her career for her man.
Maybe I'm just jumping ahead too fast! Maybe this is just a passing fancy for
both of us. (Or one of us!) But he could not move easily into space. He'd be
perfect as commander of security aboard some heavy cruiser, like the Constellation
or the Enterprise, leading ashore the troops and all.

Yes, I know, we are not a
military force, though we use military discipline. But it would be insane to go
into unknown territory—really unknown territory—without the greatest variety of
options possible. It would be like having only a stick of dynamite to kill a
bug. You need all sorts of weapons, and the discretion
to use or not use. A good sharp group of security personnel is just the right
thing for planetfalls where you don't know what might happen.

But
that means he'd have to go to Starfleet Academy or at least Security Forces
Training Center, and that would be after he wanted to go into space.
Even then there would be no real security that we'd be stationed aboard the
same starship. Starfleet does try to accommodate married personnel, but
you know bureaucracy.

So
I don't know. But I think I'm in love, Maryanne, in love, really in love, for
the first time.

I'm
going back up to the Azrael tomorrow for a week's duty and I'll write
more then. It will give me time to think. Meantime, Jomo has gone off to some
little fracas at the border, but he has promised to bring me back something
from Cairo.

Excerpt,
INS report, dated 16 October 2164:

Dateline
Obbia, Somalia Province, United States of Africa: Fighting
broke out today in the troubled Somalia Province in East Africa when Tanzanian
terrorists seized a supersonic jet with 312 aboard, including the Consulate
General of the Arab Republic and Kenda Porter, the sultry star of The New
Thief of Bagdad and Queen of Sheba.

The jet, grounded at Obbia
International Airport, was successfully attacked by a crack unit of the U.S.A.
Special Forces. All terrorists were killed, two passengers were slightly
wounded, and the only Army casualty was its leader, Captain Jomo Murumbi, a
veteran of nine years’ service.

Miss
Porter pronounced the dead captain a "true hero" and said that she
would make his life story her next holographic feature.

Letter,
Nyota Uhura to Damu Pua, dated 5 March 2166:

Dear
Father:

My
next assignment is very exciting. I'm to be Chief Communications Officer aboard
the Enterprise! It's a fine ship with a good record, and we will be
beginning a five-year voyage not long after I arrive. I don't know now whether
I will be able to get down to dirtside (as we say in Starfleet) or not. I hope
so, but my connections are going to be tight.

I'm
leaving the Azrael here at Pollox VI, taking a scout ship, the Selinger,
to Upsilon Xi III. There I hope to catch a commercial liner (they tell me
either the Charles Lee Jackson II, the Falcon, or the Thrush, depending;
maybe even Queen Elizabeth III!) to Levitz-5. Then a short hop to Earth
via Alpha Centauri! Is that not a 3-D map of Sector 9?

But
to get aboard a cruiser going on a five-year—!

So
just in case I can't get leave or arrive too late, I want you to know I love
you all and hope you understand. This is the really big chance! Almost all of
my other trips have been in and around space that was known, tamed,
unsurprising. (Note that "almost." I'm so glad some, at least,
were in uncharted territory.)

The new Starfleet policy
of not sending survey ships into areas that have not been at least given a
once-over by a heavy cruiser is probably a good one. The
big ships can handle a lot, take a lot, and, if they must, put out a lot.

So
I'm really looking forward. My love, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!

Excerpt,
Offworld, by Hikaru Sulu and B. I. O'Katwin:

We
were on our way to Beta Aurigae when Uhura reported a distress call from Camus
II. Captain Kirk took us there at once, but the landing party found only two
left alive, Dr. Janice Lester and Dr. Arthur Coleman.

The
surviving archeologists who had been exploring the ruins there were beamed
aboard and told of the others dying of celebium radiation. What we did not know
at the time was that Dr. Lester knew the secret of entity transfer.

It
was to Uhura, in private, and later to others, that Dr. Lester revealed a
grudge that had haunted her for years. Uhura told me, "She knew Captain
Kirk when they were cadets at the Academy. She's very ambitious and they were
once, briefly, in love. But her ambition was too raw for our captain, and he
walked out on her. She never forgave him."

Uhura
went on to say that Dr. Lester never realized that her own passions had forced
the issue between them. "She spent years studying ship operations and
thought a captaincy was her due," Uhura said. "She never understood
that knowing how to pilot a starship is hardly the only factor in being
a captain."

What happened next
happened swiftly. Dr. Janice Lester effected an entity transfer, trapping
Captain Kirk in her body while she was in his. She effectively had taken
over the Enterprise. She tried to kill her own former body with Kirk
trapped within it, but was prevented by the return of the remainder of the
landing party.

Dr.
McCoy put "Janice" into sickbay, thinking that in some fashion she
had gone insane, claiming to be Jim Kirk. Sedation effectively neutralized our real
captain while the Lester/Kirk controlled the ship. The imposter decided to
abandon "Janice Lester" at the Benecia Colony, thus getting rid of both
her former body and the troublesome Kirk personality.

But
the diversion of the ship made several of us suspicious. Commander Spock
affected a mind meld with the imprisoned "Janice Lester" and found
that, indeed, James Kirk's personality was within the female shell.

The
Janice/Kirk became hysterical and tried Mr. Spock for mutiny. During the
testimony both Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott became convinced that an entity transfer
had somehow been achieved and they were charged with mutiny. When Janice/Kirk
called for a death sentence, we all knew that our real captain was not in
command.

When
we refused to obey the commands of the usurper, the entity transfer began to
weaken. Had Janice/Kirk been able to leave her former body behind, the
retransfer could not have taken place and she would have been safe.

Dr. Coleman was appealed
to by the now nearly hysterical Janice/Kirk, who agreed to "her" demands
to kill everyone. But before that could hap pen the transfer broke,
returning the real Janice to her own body and our captain to his body.

"She
was insane with hatred," Uhura said. "She made a desperate, last, sad
attempt to kill Captain Kirk, but collapsed in tears. Doctor Coleman was in
love with her, and he promised to take care of her ever after.

"It
was a very sad affair, but she had always thought the reason she had not been
advanced to her own captaincy was that she was a woman. She never understood—in
fact, she was probably incapable of understanding—that the real reason was that
she had of very narrow understanding of other humans."

I
remember Uhura sighing, then saying, "I can understand loving someone, and
I can understand hating them when that love died. But I can't understand
wanting to destroy someone you once loved."

Excerpt,
The Tribble Manual, by Gerald Davis:

Tribbles
come in a variety of colors: blond, beige, white, tan, and deep auburn, as well
as a variety of soft pastel hues. They are small furry creatures that were
introduced by a somewhat shady startrader named Cyrano Jones. He repeatedly
refused to divulge the source of these almost featureless animals for fear of
his monopoly being broken.

My theory is that they are
a genetic construct of the facile scientists of the Romulan Empire, for while
they seem warm and cuddly to human/humanoid races, they react adversely to the
presence of Klingons, who are their genetic brothers.

Naturally,
being liked by humans and humanoids, they would be carried to the far reaches
of the human empire. They are highly prolific and are, in effect, born
pregnant. (See "The Genetic Overlapping of Tribble Gestation," in Science,
Vol. XXIV/C/ 23-5.)

The
genetic engineering of the tribbles seems to be oriented toward complete
compatibility with "anything that moves," as Dr. Leonard McCoy wrote,
"Except Klingons, who refer to them as 'parasites.'"

The
first encounter of human and tribble occurred aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, Captain
James T. Kirk commanding. The starship received an order from Starfleet Command
to protect Space Station K-7, which had a load of valuable quadrotriticale
grain in its storage bins and a gang of Klingons in its recreation rooms.

Under
the terms of the Organian Peace Treaty, Klingons were allowed Rest &
Recreation at this class of space station and at certain planetside bases of
the M-3 class or higher. Their presence, however, made the manager of the
station very nervous.

Captain
Kirk was aware that the rare wheat was important, for it is a high-yield,
perennial, four-lobed hybrid, the only kind that can grow and successfully
survive on Sherman's Planet, a famine-struck Federation world near enough to
the neutral zone to be in contention between the Federation and the Klingon
Empire.

Involved as he was in an
ongoing argument between a Federation Undersecretary for Agriculture, the
Station manager, and his own distrust of the Klingons, Captain Kirk did not
notice what was to develop as a far greater threat: the introduction of tribbles
into human space.

Cyrano
Jones had routinely docked at K-7 and had been much taken with the beauty and
charm of the Chief Communications Officer, Lieutenant Uhura. "They seemed
harmless enough," Nyota Uhura said later. "All they do is eat and, uh
. . . multiply."

Dr.
Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer, said, "I discovered that they seemed
to be born pregnant, an overlapping of functions which seemed astonishing and
which I at first disbelieved. The more they ate, the more tribbles they had.
Their amount grew logrithmically, not arithmetically."

James
Kirk wrote, "They overpopulated the ship in no time from the single
specimen brought aboard quite innocently by Lieutenant Uhura. There were
tribbles all over the space station as well. Suddenly we were up to our
communicators in soft, furry, cuddlesome tribbles! They especially loved the hybrid
grain. I opened a storage bin and was inundated by tribbles—dead tribbles. It
was then I discovered that the Klingons had poisoned the grain, hoping for a
devastating famine on Sherman's Planet, and an emergency evacuation, to be
followed by a swift Klingon takeover.

"When
I discovered that Klingons do not like tribbles, and very much vice-versa, I
was able to uncover a Klingon disguised as a Terran bureaucrat who had poisoned
the grain.

"We forced the
Klingons to back down, and my resourceful Chief Engineering Officer, Montgomery
Scott', managed to beam aboard the remaining live tribbles, then lock tight our
defensive screens. Our imaginations went wild as we thought of the Klingons extreme
discomfort at the agitated tribbles. Mr. Scott said that they would be `no
tribble at all.'"

Lieutenant Uhura was
agitated herself to have to give up her delightful tribble, but knew it was for
the common good. "If they weren't so marvelously fertile," she said,
"they'd make the warmest of pets. But . . ."

Interested in reading more by Rotsler? Try his two science fiction adventure masterpieces:

Patron of the Arts is the Nebula and Hugo finalist saga of a man who searches the solar system
for the woman he knew he loved only after her mysterious disappearance.
"A fine novel." -Harlen Ellison "Rotsler at the top of his form."
-Gregory Benford

NEW EDITION: Patron Of The Arts

NEW EDITION: The Far Frontier

NEW EDITION: To The Land Of The Electric Angel

NEW EDITION: Contemporary Erotic Cinema

William "Bill" Rotsler

(born Charles William Rotsler)

(b. July 3, 1926 - d. October 8, 1997)

Photo By Paul Turner

William Charles Rotsler was truly a renaissance man: acclaimed novelist and short story writer, much-admired artist and illustrator, a celebrated filmmaker, and – how he is perhaps best remembered – and as a warm and special part of science fiction fandom.

As an author, William Charles Rotsler was as prolific as he was diverse: beginning with "Ship Me Tomorrow" (Galaxy, 1970) he wrote dozens of excellently-received stories and received Nebula (1972) and Hugo (1973) nominations for his novella, Patron Of The Arts (later expanded into a novel). His word has been featured extensively in numerous "Best of the Year" and "Nebula Award" collections.

Many of his stories and novels have been translated and published in French, German, Spanish and Italian. Under his own name, Rotsler wrote To the Land of the Electric Angel(1976), the Zandra series (Zandra and The Hidden Worlds of Zandra), and Shiva Descending (1980) with Gregory Benford.

William Charles Rotsler also wrote many books under different pseudonyms including John Ryder Hall, William Arrow, and others for such properties as Marvel Comics, Star Trek, Tom Swift, and others. In Star Trek fandom, William Charles Rotsler will always be remembered for giving Lt. Uhura the first name of Nyota in one of his Star Trek novels.

As an artist, William Charles Rotsler contributed to the sculpture at the Los Angeles Police Department headquarters as well as to creation the Nebula Award trophies. But it as a cartoonist that Rotsler is perhaps best as an artist remembered for, having received five Hugo awards for his work that appeared in fanzines, convention program books, as well as magazines such as Locus, and many others. He will always be fondly remembered for his spontaneous charactures and sketches, often done on hotel tablecloths during science fiction conventions.

To honor Rotsler, The Southern California Institute for Fan Interests created the William Rotsler Award in 1998; given to lifetime achievements by SF fan artists.

William Charles Rotsler was also a recognized by many as a visionary filmmaker and photographer, with his photographs appearing in scores of magazines from Skin Diver to Playboy. He helped Piccard set the first/hot air balloon record, been dropped out of helicopters to the decks of destroyers, and photographed the first man to fly a hang glider into the Grand Canyon.

William Charles Rotsler made dozens of short and feature length films – many adult in nature – writing and editing 24 of the 26 features he directed. Working with such luminaries as Bill Warren and Harry Novak (whose career he helped launch), his films include Agony of Love, Mantis in Lace, Street Of 1000 Pleasures, and others. He is also the author of the non-fiction book Contemporary Erotic Cinema.

Beyond his resume, however, William Charles Rotsler – Bill to his friends – will always be remembered as a caring, passionate, warm, and always with a sparkling sense of humor. This site is dedicated to William Charles Rotsler with hope that it will both celebrate his life and art and to re-introduce him to a new generation.

Special thanks his friend Paul Turner, whose support and friendship has allowed us to introduce William Rotsler to a whole new generation of readers and fans